Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-02-03
THANKFUL'S VIGILS.

When the irrepressible American boret
down a thousand feet into the heart o.
Pennsylvania and extracted fabulou:
quantities of oil, and when the ladies be
came content with steel strips for corsets
instead of whalebone, then one Of tht
greatest and most adventurous of the in
dustries of New England received its
death blow.
Our story relates to the time when there
was hustle and business in an ancient and
historic seaport, where now may be seer
rotting wharves and tumble down ware
houses; when a dozen seagoing vessels
were in the barbor where one is now seen
when the stanch whaleships went out OF
their long voyages and came back lader
with the wealth that made the prosperity
of the port; when sailors and sailors fam
lilies made up a large share of the popu
lation, and the old town really seemed tC
belong less to the land than to the sea.
All this has changed, and the incidents
we relate could hardly occur there now.
But human lives and human hopes and
fears, happiness and misery are much the
same everywhere.
and the busy part of the town, N tha;
outskirt of it that was built on the rising
ground that overlooked the town, bay and
ocean, Capt. Benson had his cottage. He
was at home very little of the time, but
when he was he loved a place like this,
commanding a wide view of the ocean
rim, where he could sit at the window by
the hour and with his good glass discover
the first indication of sails approaching
the coast He was a veteran whaler and
had for fully fifty years pursued the busi-
ness on all seas. For the last two years
he had commanded the whale ship Cheva-
ier. On his last voyage out he had said
to his wife: "It'l be the last, Nancy.
Let me go once more to the south Pacific
and fill the old ship with oil, and then I'll
stay here and pass the rest of my days
with you and Thankful. Jack Sturdy,
my mate, will be the master; he's fine
fellow, Thankful. must bring him here
to see you''
Then the old captain looked from his
wife to his daughter, and added the drol
remark: ''For my part, I'm beginning to
think it's time / was better acquainted
with you two."
He went to sea again; but he never re-
turned. A year later the eyes of the wife
and daughter were gladdened by the
sight of the Chevalier sailing into the bay.
But instead of him they eagerly watched
for, the mate came up slowly and sorrow
fully to tell them that the captain had
died of fever in Callao, and was buried
there.
John Sturdy was now captain and was
busy enough overhauling the ship, pick
ing his crew and making all ready for his
first voyage in command of the ship. But
it was noticed that after everything had
been done for the wife and daughter which
the dying captain had requested, after
their grief had somewhat subsidized, Capt.
Sturdy still climbed the hill to the cot
tage at least three times a week.
Presently the gossips of the neighbor-
hood began to hint that Thankful Benson
could tell why he came so often; and not
more than three months had passed since
he first came, when Mrs. Benson silenced
them all with the plain statement:
''There needn't be any mystery about
it; Thankful and Capt Sturdy are en-
gagged, and will be married as soon as a
proper respect for the memory of her ia
ther will allow. It'll probably be at tie
end Of the Chevalier's next voyage"
John Sturdy was an experienced sea
man of 35-fifteen years older than
whom his ship had been
his world, and to whom ideas of love and
had appeared idle myths. He
met Thankful Benson for the first time,
when she tainted in his arms upon his
errand to the cottage. She
had grown upon his fancy with every visit
and his heart was quickly offered. With
her it was case of first love; he was all
that her girlish imagination required.
And when he took the girl by the hand
and asked the widow for her consent, she
smiled and sighed all at once.
90 it's well enough, Thankful" she
said, eff you must marry a sailor, but /
was in hopes you wouldn't let your affec-
ions go seafaring."
''It's the way of our family. you know,
MOTHER" and the daughter smiled and
ooked up to her sailor trustfully.
"Indeed it is, and sorry and heart
way it has been for the women
Not only in our family, but in al the sea-
mems families is it true. For thirty years
I've known this port, and of all its sailors
hat have died in that time not one out Of
our has died in his bed. But the Lord
wills it, and you may be happy"
"When l knew l was to be the master
II the Chevalier," said John Sturdy, 81
lid not think l should quit her for ten
ears at least. Pm sailor, and love the
ga, with all its perils; but now, if Thank
nj asks me to quit it for her, I'm ready"
'Indeed, then, do ask you"
"But only at the end of this voyage.
dy word has been given to the owners,
nd cannot break it. The time will be
hort; let us live in hope Of it.''
"Ah, this one last voyage" sighed Mrs
Benson, ruefully. pray God it may fare
'etter than that of my poor, dear Sim
on"
The Chevalier sailed in March. The
arting was hard one; quite as hard to
he man as to the maid. 1t need not be
old why it was hard for her to give her
oung loves dream to the cruel chances Of
he sea; of him it must be said that, as
ove came late, it came strong as well
Don't 60, Jack, F" she pleaded amid her
obs. 81 know it's selfish. but l can't
elp it. Don't leave me. l shall never
ee you again if you do"
Her distress, her unbounded love ap-
ealed to him powerfully. His resolution
'as severely shaken. Nothing but the
ailor's ingrained honor and habitual self
iscipline held him back as he said:
For heavens sake, Thankful, don't
empt me away from daty. l leave you
My because l must; but the time will be
hort. All our arrangements are for q
hort voyage; expect me back by the next
ew year. l shall hasten everything for
our sake.n
She went to sleepless bed that night. |
n the morning her fathers glass showed |
er the Chevalier far out at sea- For many |
ays she went about heavy hearted. Her
,other watched and pitied her, and her |
wn heart bled afresh.
But youth is the season of hope and love |
its turn; and IS tho months of that
,ring and summer went by the girl felt |
ore and more as though she were only |
lduring brief probation to lifelong hap
ness. News had reached her of the Chev-
ier and her beloved First came let
Z from Rio full of love and promise;
len an incoming whaler reported speak
g the Cheyalier In the far South Allan
c, and that all on board were well, and
len a letter from Lima. All was well,
me was flying, the promised time for the